A play in Korean, based on a Greek tragedy, and co-produced by a couple of Austrian cultural organizations?

When such an event happens in New Jersey, it has to be at Peak Performances at Montclair State University. Once again, executive director Jedediah Wheeler cast his global net and pulled in a fascinating evening in the theater, thanks to solid acting and direction.

The title sounds oxymoronic: "The Trojan Women: An Asian Story." The drama, written by Euripides in 416 B.C., wouldn't seem to be relevant to a continent the playwright never visited, let alone wrote about.

Nevertheless, director-writer Aida Karic notes the parallels between the classic world and the events of World War II. Just as the Greek victors brutalized the innocent women of Troy, so, too, did the Japanese force hundreds of thousands into becoming "comfort women."

That's a euphemism for prostitute, or, more accurately, sex slaves.

While many of the women who were kidnapped, raped and tortured came from China, the Philippines or the Netherlands, the majority were from Korea. That's why Karic, a Yugoslavian director who lives in Vienna, has developed the 70-minute piece with Korean artists.

The bare stage is as dark as a war zone at night. Kurt Hentschlager's dim but dramatic lighting picks up five actresses: Gwangdeok Kim, Kyunghee Mun, Eungyung Baek, Yoojeong Byun and Hyunsoon Lee. On one side of the stage, Hecuba (Hyunsoon Lee), the aged survivor of the Trojan War, speaks as a supertitle above her mourns, "Today we are on our knees." On the other side of the stage, more faintly lit, is a Comfort Woman (Eungyung Baek). She tells the story of her rape, followed by a beating that leads to a three-day coma. After she awakens, she decides that servicing "30 to 40 Japanese soldiers a day" is a better fate.

Karic wisely places the latter performer far from the lip of the stage; the play often stresses the comfort women's sense of shame at being victimized. Later, Hentschlager's lighting becomes painfully bright, making it virtually impossible to read the supertitles. The difficulty in reading matches the women's near-inability to speak about these atrocities. Although what is being said may not be understood, the hysteria in the women's voices is quite telling.

As Karic alternates between Euripedes' passages and her own words, she explores sexual exploitation in wartime, both ancient and, sadly enough, recent. The other women -- Byun, Kim and Mun -- have a hesitant and dazed demeanor that extends to their walk, suggesting great sleep deprivation and an exhaustion from the life the soldiers have given them.

A trio of musicians, playing drums and woodblocks, offer their own doleful running commentary. At the end of the show, when the lights come up full force, the effect is blinding and hurts our eyes. By then, though, our other senses and sensibilities have been hurt, too.

Yet, at the closing, the voices of the five are joyous as they express their wonder at surviving. Again, theatergoers may not understand the words or be able to read the titles, but they'll hear triumph pour from the stage.